


Something Wicked

by Jaeger Gipsy Danger (Carleen)



Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Dishonored 2 - Fandom
Genre: Corvo Attano - Freeform, Dunwall, Dunwall Tower, Emily Kaldwin - Freeform, Empress Kaldwin, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, The Outsider - Freeform, The Rat Plague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carleen/pseuds/Jaeger%20Gipsy%20Danger
Summary: The story covers the relationship between Emily and Corvo during the time after the first game and the start of Dishonored 2. There's a complicated father-daughter relationship there and I wanted to explore it. Now, if you haven't started Dishonored 2, then you have no business poking around in here. Out. Go read my other Dishonored story. AN: Spoiler Alert. I'm not regurgitating the story of Dishonored 2 here, but there might be a few things you don't want to know about before you start playing.





	

**~o0o~Spoiler Alert~o0o~**

 

* * *

"By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes."

― William Shakespeare, _Macbeth_

* * *

I was twelve when my father told me about The Outsider.

The memories of that day have not dimmed and remain etched in high relief upon my heart. Tired and content after a day of spent outside in the sunshine swimming and enjoying a picnic lunch. The shadows began to lengthen when my Father and I turned hand in hand along the shore for home when a sudden spring storm churned to life out on the bay. We hadn't walked ten feet before the sky opened up, drenching us in seconds. Twenty yards from the gate, my Father hoisted me over his shoulder and ran for the gazebo. I can still hear my childish laughter.

He set me on my feet and smoothed the hair from my face, "Are you alright?"

I remember my smile faded at the concern written into the lines of his face. He was, as you might imagine, very protective of me in those days. I wondered why he thought I might not be alright. It was only a rain shower. Then lightening illuminated the gazebo, and a crack of thunder shook the ground. Childishly afraid of thunder and lightening, I threw myself against my father. Without hesitation, he wrapped me that great woolen coat of his. The guards, who felt sure we would die of lung fever on the spot, escorted us quickly through the gate.

I feared nothing when my father held my hand securely clasped in his calloused fingers.

Those were the days that my young mind had named The After. After my mother died, after the rat plague, after I almost died falling from the lighthouse and after I learned that my beloved Corvo was my father.

I didn't fully understand it at the time, but it was also the day my Father began teaching me how to defend myself. He made a game out of it, by having me practice sneaking up on him or walking silently. When he pretended to discover me, or I actually managed to sneak up on him, he would pull me into his arms and toss me into the air. I would laugh and hug his neck. Then he'd look at me in a strange way as if he suddenly thought of something else and pushed me away. Sometimes I would see a glint of tears in his eyes. It was those times when he often held me so tight I could feel his breath hitching and best of all, he would call me his girl.

I loved my father, and he loved me. We were inseparable. But there is something you must understand. My father, who never failed to kiss me goodnight or praise my achievements, no longer smiled.

I had long ago proved myself mature enough to sit with the adults at the supper table. While conversation I didn't understand swirled above my head, I studied my mother and Corvo as they smiled at each other across the elegant dining table when they thought no one was looking. Later after the guests departed, fires were banked and the great hall quiet I would often find them dancing together in the light of a single candle. They looked so happy...Then on an entirely typical Spring day, that moment shattered, gone forever and my father never smiled again.

Finally, after my nurse dried me off and changed my clothes, I joined him in our private sitting room. Curled up oversized chairs with our supper trays between us we enjoyed our meal. Nothing could touch or harm me here. A child's curiosity pricked my ears and eyes. I waited for my father to speak.

That night I watched him with the firelight flickering in his eyes and soften the often harsh planes of his face, I wondered if someone might choose to fear that perpetual worried frown. I didn't, of course. He was my whole world, and as the girl knew and the woman acknowledged, I was his. He was the bulwark against which I set my nightmares, my dreams and the fears that a child cannot rationalize away. He knew my grief.

Many times he would find me in my safe room huddled in a corner wrapped in the embroidered robe that my once belonged to my mother. It was in those sad moments when he would gather me up in his arms and rock me like a small child. Through my tears, I often heard him whisper, "I won't let them take my girl. We'll be ready. They won't take you away from me."

It was after the servants brought dessert and I watched him sip his coffee that he began to speak of The Outsider.

At twelve boys were beneath my notice. But the idea that this mystery man helped my father save me and catch those horrible people appealed to my sense of adventure. The fact that The Outsider gifted my Father with special powers fired my imagination. I peppered him with questions until he finally tossed his linen napkin down.

"It is past your bedtime, Empress."

He would use my title when he was annoyed with me. But, even at twelve, I knew how to charm my Father. Isn't that truth of all daughters who learn to manipulate men by practicing on their fathers? So I ignored his offered arm and poured him a glass of brandy. After five minutes of my shameless begging, he fell back against the chair and stared into the fire. I wanted to know everything. What he looked like and what had he said? With his eyes locked on the flickering firelight and his hands white-knuckled on the chair, he began the story of how he met The Outsider.

The fire had died down, by the time I nodded off on the settee. The child was overjoyed her father chose to share such an exciting story with her. The woman knew that was the first time he'd told anyone about The Outsider and the wisdom of helping him talk out those memories.

When I was fifteen, I imagined myself in love with the handsome and dashing young man only my father had ever seen. In the world of Dunwall and Dunwall Tower, where an Empress always lived in the public eye, The Outsider was my secret friend and confidant. I learned very quickly not to share my him with anyone. My nurse would pale, and her eyes dart around the room when I mentioned him. The second time I brought up The Outsider, she slapped my face. Lesson learned. Ombrare—my name for him—became more and more my secret and began to supplant father's place in my heart.

By the time I was sixteen, I had stopped asking about him. I had no more questions because by then I knew Ombrare intimately. I loved his black eyes and dark hair. I loved his youth and mysterious airs. We were about the same age…Perhaps he was a little older and taller. We had so much in common, too. We both loved jellied eels and hated whale meat. Of course, we both agreed that something must be done about the horrors of the whaling industry.

At night after supper, after my lessons and after Father kissed me goodnight, I would sneak down to the ballroom. And there in the shadowed moonlight, I conjured up from my simple mind, Ombrare. Dark and handsome like my Father, Ombrare smiled down at me while we whirled around the empty ballroom.

Ten days after my sixteenth birthday something, a voice or a feeling called me downstairs. The night was a clear night with a new moon so that I had only the stars to light my way. This wasn't the dark tones of my father's voice. The nearer I drew to the ballroom, the louder and clearer the voice became. Until I felt sure, it might wake up the entire household.

A masculine voice and so filled with youth and the promise of adventure my heart pounded in anticipation. I crept into the ballroom clad only in my nightgown. With my fingers and toes tingling, I hugged my arms around my chest to quiet the frisson of ice across my quivering arms.

_My dearest, Emily. There you are, at last._

And there at the window stood my Ombrare. Slim and tall, dressed in a suit so dark he stood nearly invisible in the starlight.

"Ombrare? Is it you?"

_How I delight in the name you chose for me. Come Emily. Come to me and allow your shadow to warm you._

As if pulled by a string my feet hardly touched the inlaid wood floor. Then I was in his arms and the world of rules, manners, and court intrigue disappeared.

I cleaved to him when he tucked my head under his chin. I knew this is how we fit together. I knew it! His long fingers spread over my back and when he did all my focus turned to how my breasts fit against his chest. All I could think of was greedy thoughts of more. I wanted more. I was the Empress, and no one could deny me.

I had no more completed that thought when one of his hands slipped between us to gently cup my breast. My head fell back. I think I cried out when he pinched my nipple between his fingers. The chill of his mouth replaced that hand, and I was lost.

_You are so sweet, my little Emily. As pretty as your father was handsome. You taste of things I had long ago forgotten. Will you help me remember?_

"Yes," I murmured with my hand in his hair pulling him closer. Closer. I must have him. My Ombrare knew what I did not. He knew secrets, and he would share them with me. He knew how to ease this ache, this trembling, and hunger so intense that I ground my teeth together.

His lips and tongue moved over my skin the wet trail of his kisses an icy rivulet on my skin. Returning to my mouth, he tangled his hands in my hair and tipped my head back. His breath like a cold cloth on my overheated flesh.

_I dreamed of this moment, as you dreamed of me. How brave you are, Emily. Almost as courageous as your father. Ah, Corvo. A mind so troubled he renewed my interest in life. So long ago, now. I miss him. His mind is closed to me now. In the end, he finally yielded to me. Granted, he had nowhere else to turn. When I set my mark upon him, I knew such power that my withered soul sang with joy! But not you. Not you, my Sweet Emily. How effortlessly you yield to me. How luscious your skin and how intoxicating your innocent desire._

Most of what he said escaped my notice. I wanted his mouth on mine and for him never to stop. How could I be trembling and not be afraid, shivering but not cold? My Ombrare tasted of winter and the promise of warmth. When he finally pulled away, I couldn't keep myself from falling asleep. Against my will, my eyes closed. The last thing I remember were his dark eyes filling and expanding so that I felt I must be falling. And I fell willingly, anything to hold his smile and keep his hands on my body. In the midnight chill of his embrace, I found a new freedom. I revealed in it and learned to soar among the stars.

My father found me the next morning lying on the floor of the ballroom shivering with cold. He carried me to my room, tucked me in and covered me with an extra blanket.

"Are you ill, my girl?" He asked with his hand on my brown.

I yawned and curled into the blankets seeking the threads of my night with Ombrare. "It was only a dream, Father."

But he wasn't through with me. "Would you tell me if something were wrong, Emily. I am here for you always…"

Impatient to get back to my dreams, I carelessly replied that it was nothing but a dream and I was all right. That was the first lie I ever told to my father.

~o0o~

Wyman entered my life on my eighteen birthday. Charming and handsome but failed to hold the same fascination for me as Ombrare or my father. Wrapped in the youthful arrogance of my intellect and beauty, I was overeducated, and opinionated. Wyman had nothing to teach me, except to introduce me to the hookah and various tobaccos. My father had not approved. Naturally, I kept my new friend close and invited Wynn to join my court.

Time passed, while I learned the poise and reserve of an empress, extended hospitality to my guests, held court, and spoke comfortably with foreign dignitaries. Always, Ombrare stayed in my heart, and I dreamed of meeting him again. I understood by now that I was a virgin and women, especially Empresses were expected to hold onto that state of innocence until marriage. Everyone expected me to marry. In my heart, I was already promised to my Ombrare. It was to him that I would gift my innocence. Perhaps he would enter a state dinner uninvited and shock the guests by asking me to dance?

The Empress and her consort, the envy of all. The most handsome couple at my court and we lead every dance. Make entertaining friends and travel my realm. Best of all, my elegant Ombrare would smile at me.

That it might never happen never entered my mind. Our children would be beautiful—I hadn't yet figured out that having beautiful children required sex. Our happily ever after would become the most romantic story of the age. Yes, you may laugh at my girlish dreams. I was a sheltered child and no one was allowed to talk about such bawdy things in my presence. Not even my governess would speak of it. So while I understood virginity, I possessed no clear idea of how one actually lost it. And if you lost your virginity could you find it again?

~o0o~

I missed the target, again. Across the shooting range, I heard my father's exasperated sigh. Unable to use my sneak skills or approach him without noise, even the darts lay impotent in the grass feet away from their intended destination. The weapon would not fit in my hand today.

"Daughter, what distracts you this morning?"

"I don't know, Father. I'm just tired."

"Empress, get your head out of the clouds. Do not allow your infatuation with Wynn and these so-called friends to distract you. Five times I've caught you gathered around that hookah smoking as of you had nothing else in the world to think about."

As I listened to him like the dutiful daughter, I realized I no longer shared his fears of our enemies. The unseen enemies that never, not once in fifteen years bothered to show their faces at my court. Fifteen years of peace and prosperity. Relax, Ombrare whispered into my ear. All is well, my sweet Emily. And soon I shall come to you again.

"One day they will come for us, Emily. We must be ready."

He did not often show his anger, but just now it flashed from his eyes. Almost as tall him now, I stared right back. "Father, you always say that. Who will come? When will they come? We live cloistered in that tower where no one can touch us. You and Ombrare protect me always…"

"…what did you say?" He yanked the dart gun from my hand, tossed it in the grass and grabbed my shoulders. "Who put those thoughts in your head? Was it that puppy, Wyman?"

"Yes, I meant Wyman. Yes, I don't know what I was thinking. We may have talked about it one or twice. I don't understand why you don't like him, Father."

"I would see you married, but not to him. Emily, you are a grown woman. It is passed the time for you to understand something. His father put him up to seducing you. His family earned your favor then put Wyman in your path."

That news shocked me. Probably because it punctured my fragile ego. I didn't love Wyman, but it was not for my father or anyone else to tell me so.

I shouted back, "No. I don't believe it, and I will marry him someday."

"Now I see it." He tipped is head back and laughed. The hollow sound frightened me and fueled my own temper.

"You weren't aware of the subterfusion were you? Your ego blinded you to it. Just as it will blind you to the enemies when they appear under your royal nose."

Had I ever seen him this angry? My own anger surfaced. It was the rage of an adult and not the tears of a child. I took a step back from him.

"I will love who I chose and take lovers at my leisure. I don't require permission. I don't need you meddling in my life." I stopped talking, and the wind fell from the sails of my anger. What had I done?

"As you wish, Empress."

He was gone. I stood in the wet grass and tried to banish the pain from my father's eyes. The pain I put there.

_Soon. Very soon, Emily. We will be together. Do not despair. Your father doesn't understand. You know how it is with old folks, he's out of touch. What does he know about the needs of a beautiful young girl?_


End file.
